


Aesthetically Pleasing

by Anonymous



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Annoying Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Veronica and Logan move in together and discuss turn-ons.





	Aesthetically Pleasing

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is tonally kind of a mess and LoVe's stupid, real issues kept rearing their ugly heads...
> 
> But I made it in time for The Smuttening, and that's what matters!

Logan darts to and fro in front of her, sorting and pitching, and Veronica decides it’s a really good show: him settling in. She sinks into the sofa, examining the chaos strewn before her. Her place, correction: _their_ place, is a mess. 

_Their place_. 

The thought has Veronica so tickled, she can’t seem to care about the numerous boxes of Navy paperwork, miscellaneous gaming systems, or excessive amounts of kitchen gadgetry overrunning the space. The loveliness of Logan’s bomber jacket permanently residing next to hers in the closet has her high on a domestic thrill.

Her mind drifts to how their socks are nestled into the same dresser in the next room and has to bite her lip to keep from grinning.

“You actually gonna help me out here or just keep swooning?”

She looks up at him and plays coy, “Swoon? I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Want me to lug another box of your law books around, help you demonstrate?” 

She thinks about the way his muscles rippled earlier when he had; thighs flexing against his jeans, biceps bulging against the cuffs of his short sleeve henley. She leans back, smug, “Yes.”

“Too bad, I have things to do,” he sasses, continuing to work from his crouched position on the floor.

“ _Mean_.”

“I know you’re tired, but I really wanna get this done tonight. Keep giving me a hand and I promise to lift something later.”

“Something good?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“You.”

Pleased, she sits up and drags another box towards her. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Oh, I'll be driving something hard tonight,” he says offhandedly. She loves his low-key dirty talk and bites a nail.

———  


Properly incentivized and a couple hours later, they're pretty much done. Mugs have made it to kitchen cupboards, his TV now resides in the living room, and their toiletries are cohabiting happily in the medicine cabinet. 

Only a few tasks remain as he sorts through paperbacks for donation and she rummages through a box of wall art. There isn’t much in it, but it’s an eclectic hodgepodge: a few framed Navy certificates, a watercolor of the ocean, an illustration of an Indian warrior, a charcoal drawing of a sleeping lion, and lastly, a vintage Navy propaganda poster from the the 1940s. It features a curvy, blonde bombshell in a bustier bodysuit. She’s perched on the edge of a cockpit with an impossible arch in her back and a tagline that reads, “Ready for Action!”

“Ooh, Naval porn!” She flashes the poster to Logan with a salacious look. “Hubba, hubba.”

He glances over and grins as he finishes his work. “Dick gave it to me as a congrats when I got my wings.” She flips it over and finds a note: ‘ _To keep you warm those long lonely nights. From this Dick to yours. XX_ ’ 

Veronica bites the inside of her cheek and mutters, “Too bad you’re not a fan of a one-piece number,” before blinking hard with instant regret. 

Logan's brow furrows and he gives a dismissive chuckle. “What gave you that idea?”

Her mouth gawks ineffectually for a moment and she gives an exaggerated purse of her lips to try to play it off. “Thought I remembered something to that effect.” How she’s letting a shitty moment from a decade ago screw with this day is beyond her.

He rises and ambles over, descending onto the couch besides her to examine the poster with an appreciative eye. “Well whomever gave you that impression was sorely mistaken. I blame all those old movies I used to watch with my mom during my formative years.” He drops the frame on the coffee table and relaxes back into the cushions, running a hand down her spine while she’s still perched forward. “‘Pinup girl’ is top of my aesthetic tier.” He thumbs under the hem of her striped tee before clasping her jean-clad hip. “Right behind ‘hard-boiled, lady detective with masculine overtones’.”

She wants to let this go, so she twists and straddles him, quickly leaning forward to kiss his neck. He kisses her shoulder and suckles the crook of her neck to reciprocate before drawing her lips to his mouth.

He senses something off in her kiss though and pauses; she pulls back.

He doesn’t really know what’s wrong, so he takes a stab in the dark. “We don’t have to put Betty up, you know?”

“No, it’s not—“ But she doesn't finish her sentence. “Betty?” She stares at him and he waits for her to gather her thoughts. Her gaze drops and she fiddles with his shirt button. “What else do you like?”

“Like?”

“Yeah?”

He’s a little thrown. “Aesthetically?”

“Yeah.”

“You. Naked.”

“ _Logan_ ,” she glowers.

“You asked, I answered.”

“ _Be serious_.”

“ _I am serious_ ,” he rebuts with laughing indignation, but he sees there’s something somber in her eyes. “Where’s this coming from? You know what I like.” He strokes cheek. “You more than know.”

“Yeah.”

“But…” She’s quiet and suddenly he realizes he’s got 19-year-old Veronica in his hands, not the 28-year-old version he’s gotten used to. He’s not sure why this subject is rearing it’s ugly head now, but he hates seeing these ghosts haunt her head. “You want me to tell you anyway.”

She shrugs and casually says, “If you want,” like she’s not asking him edge around a powder keg.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Her eyes dart up to his. She’s surprised, excited, nervous. 

“On one condition.” 

She pouts.

“You reciprocate.” 

Her eyes go wide and he smiles.

“What are you so worried about? You can talk dirty,” he baits her, “I’ve heard you.”

Veronica straightens up and juts her hand out in front of her. “Deal.” Logan takes it and shakes, “Deal.”

“Okay, _start_.”

He laughs warmly, amused at her sudden eagerness before listing what comes to mind. 

“Pink bikinis. You in boots. Butch is good, those new ones you’ve been wearing lately, even better. They make your ass all high and tight and makes me wanna tip you over. The basics: tight jeans, short skirts. Layers. Leather. When you pair it with something girly. That tank top with the little lace edge. Sneakers. Cause they make you so short and I get to compensate. You in red. Although more your attitude in that color than you in it. You in it’s good too though. You in blue. You in green. Lots of black. Pale underwear. Not nude but like really light pink. Blush, like the color of yours skin. Makes me feel like you're naked even though you're not. Bras where I can see your nipples. Where I can taste them through the fabric. That scar on your upper thigh. I could write odes. When you get really caustic with someone who deserves it. They way you take charge. In life, in our bed. The way your mouth collapses just before you come. That look in your eye when you know I’m about to. Your belly.” His thumb swipes under the waistband of her jeans. “The softness here. Everything about your cunt…" His voice thickens, " _Everything about your cunt_. The shape of it. The perfect rosy flush of it. The hot, silken feel of it sinking down onto me. Pulsing around me. The sweet, metallic, only-Veronica-could-ever-taste-this-good tang of it flooding my mouth. Quivering against my teeth.”

Her eyes are glassy and her skin is flushed as she scoots closer to him for the dozenth time during this conversation.

“You don’t have to say things that specifically pertain to me.”

“Sure I do.”

“You like other things.”

“Nothing so much as I like you. You could wear granny panties and have sports-bra uni-boob and I’d still want you more than any other person on the planet," He tips forward, his mouth hovering lightly over hers, "Now," placing a whisper soft nip on her bottom lip, "your turn.”

She gives a tinny whine in protest as he retreats, causing a feral eye tooth to peak from his grin.

She scoots forward again, taking in a deep breath. Fair is fair. 

"That grin."

He points to his own face with inquery.

"Yeah." His grin widens and she scrunches her nose as her want pools.

"Anything else?"

“You," she swallows languidly. "Caked in salt and sea water," her fingers trail across his chest in rumination, gently scratching. "Your wetsuit around your hips. You have this great ass. The way it sometimes hides in your pants, but I know it’s there.” His brow creases and he looks at her like she’s completely absurd. She smiles, “Totally a thing.”  

“Whatever, weirdo.”

She cups his pink cheek and grazes it with her thumb. "When you blush. Plus, freckles. Especially across the upper back." She pauses and nods to herself with a sigh, "Mm, yeah, back muscles. Back muscles are very good. As is Apollo’s belt.”

“Whosie whatsits?”

“That groin line."

"Ah."

"Those cuts in,” she draws on him, “right there.”

“Why?”

“Cause, they’re they’re like a road map.”

“To?”

“Your cock.” She let’s the word linger, knowing how much he loves it on her lips. The crude, throaty snap of it. “Makes me think about how much you whimper when I take you in my mouth. The velvety feel of you shuttering against my tongue. Gushing down my—“ 

Their eyes meet and suddenly their tops are off and she’s on her back with her jeans around her ankles, the fabric unrelentingly caught on her boots as he tugs. Too impatient to wait for him to properly complete the task, she drags him under the bunched denim, through her thighs, and spreads wide as they wrench his pants from his hips and he buries himself deep inside her.

He pounds into her and she arcs into him with every thrust. The couch is too soft though and he groans in frustration as he sweeps her up, hauling her sideways and they crash awkwardly to the floor. Veronica cries out and Logan hesitates, but her pain is mostly pleasure so she waves off his concern with a kiss, grabbing his ass and hitching her knees up over his shoulders. He grinds down hard and she cries out in abrupt, elongated orgasm as he slams into again and again and again. 

As she wearily comes back to herself, the air is thick with the scent her arousal, coating even her throat as she kisses him between thrusts. He’s drunk on in it, she can tell. Pupils blown and eyes glassy, trained on her face without a fixed point. He’s taking in deep huffy breaths through his nose, not his mouth. Wonderful, sweet, strain-filled noises are still working their way out of the back of his throat though, underscoring her gasping moans. 

Veronica looks down to watch his slick cock pumping in and out of her and feels his blunt thickness bump against her cervix. Imagines how deep he is inside her. The bruising pull of release starts again. Attune, Logan knows and he slips his hands under and around her shoulders to brace for extra friction while her thighs slip to spread around his shoulders. She feels like she can’t possibly go wider and he can’t possibly go deeper, but with every stroke he proves her wrong as he pulls her close. She feels herself tipping over the edge, so she snakes her hand between the cheeks of his ass, fingering his taint, intent on taking him with her. He changes his rhythm to a small grind at the end of every stroke while she pushes her finger past his threshold and he angles against her just right. They come blindingly, raw open mouth against raw open mouth, clenching and shuddering and swathed in a cacophony of their own sounds until they collapse, chests heaving.

Logan tries to alleviate the pressure of his weight on her, but Veronica holds him steady. Instead, she brings her ankles just slightly higher with a groan so she can unzip and properly remove her boots, chucking them behind her head. She then continues with her jeans. He watches her struggle, the determined little sneer on her face just inches from his and loves every moment of it. She tugs hard on the last stubborn pant leg and exclaims, “Ha ha!,” in victorious fatigue as the jeans go flinging across the room in release.

He chuckles openly as she lazily tilts her chin up to try to kiss him, flexing her feet as he rubs out her thigh. She settles for nibbling his chin until he drops his mouth onto hers.

She feels herself sopping into their new rug and halfheartedly laments, “We’re making such a mess. I should probably go clean up." However, when he starts to slide off her, she grumbles, “I didn’t mean it…”

“I know,” he smirks as he slips down her body, wiping her briefly with his abandoned shirt before settling his face between her thighs, lapping her cunt with leisurely but meticulous stokes. She mewls at the thought before she even gets a chance to mewl the sensation. She gasps for his hair and uses what little energy she has left to grab a quick glance of his head bobbing between her thighs before her head thunks back down on the carpet.

“This,” she huffs, breathless, feeling him smile against her. “This is a really good aesthetic.”

He finishes with an insouciant kiss of her clit before crawling back up her body and scooping her against him as he rolls them over, her dead weight a welcome heaviness against his chest.  

“Anything else?” he poses.

“Henleys,” she mumbles. “Preferably soaking wet, but I’lltake whatacanget…”

He can tell she’s moments from sleep and he lets himself drift off. He vaguely hears her mutter, “Suchacomfymattress,” before the world fades into silence and warmth.

———

The next day he comes home to Veronica upside-down in bed, ass against the headboard with her legs stretched up the wall at a tantalizingly right angle. Her blonde hair swept about her in sleek waves. Her body clad in bedsheets and a pair of red pumps. 

“Ahoy, sailor."

Stunned, Logan gives her a careful twice over. "I think I'm gonna like this whole living together thing."

"Care to report for duty?”

"With pride," he murmurs, crawling towards her and they begin to entangle. He kisses her hungrily, eagerly running his hands up her exposed thigh, and then higher, abruptly stopping to burst out in uproarious laughter.

He throws the sheet aside to reveal her clad in the blousiest pair of pink satin granny panties he’s ever seen and her chest bound in the least flattering sport bra she could find.

“Still want me?”

“God, yes.” Hauling her towards him, he wraps her body around his, pressing her to him. She feels every inch of truth in his statement and smiles.

“Good. Now help me out of these things.” She gives a good wriggle, “They’re surprisingly chaffing.”

“Seriously,” he groans, “This is really working for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this was worth your time! Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback would be much appreciated. X


End file.
